


Desperate For A Chance

by jakefromstatefarm97



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Accidental Stimulation, Canon Divergence - No Hydra Takeover, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Grant Ward Isn't Hydra, Hand Jobs, Masturbation, Nightmares, Sexual Frustration
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 09:48:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25967635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jakefromstatefarm97/pseuds/jakefromstatefarm97
Summary: Ward’s point of view as he adjusts to working with the team and living on the bus while being extremely attracted to his rookie to the point that he has to keep taking cold showers to prevent himself from jerking off like a teenager every chance he gets. Basically a rewrite of the first part of season 1, including quotes from season 1.
Relationships: Skye | Daisy Johnson/Grant Ward
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	1. The Brunette With The Feisty Attitude

The life of a specialist is lonely, but I think that it suits me. I have never been very good at interacting with other people, so working alone has been ideal. That’s why I’m shocked when Maria Hill tells me I’ve been assigned to agent Coulson’s team. I really wasn’t interested in joining Coulson team; I told Coulson and Maria Hill this. Maria Hill rolls her eyes and tells me, “Well, it sucks to be you then.” Coulson gives me a kind smile and tells me that if I wasn’t a good fit, I’d go right back to working solo. So being a good soldier who follows orders. I join the newly assembled team on their first mission expecting to hate it. Still, to my surprise, I’m actually enjoying myself. My bed was comfortable, and I can work out while we travel to our destination, which is a plus. I’m almost ready to admit that maybe my opinion on being part of a team is wrong.

With the help of Fitz, we track the person who posted the picture of the enhanced person to an alley in west L.A. .When Coulson and I arrive at the alley, we find a van parked with the suspect most likely inside. I have no idea who’s inside the van as I pull the door of the van open. Still, a pretty, small brunette wearing a plaid shirt with a feisty attitude was not what I expected. I let Coulson do all the talking as I haul the suspect into the S.U.V. She doesn’t shut up about how we were violating her rights, the whole freaking ride back to the bus, not even for two seconds. It was really starting to annoy me and give me a headache. 

Finally, we arrive back at the bus. Coulson and I escort our suspect to the interrogation room. Once inside, I remove the handcuffs before I sit her down in a chair. Coulson breaks the ice by asking her, “What’s your name?” She replies, “Skye.” Coulson then moves on to ask her about the “Hooded Hero” we’re searching for, to which Skye responds by going off on a tangent about what S.H.I.E.L.D. is hiding from the public. She even names Project Pegasus and something I’ve never heard of called centipede. I give Coulson a look and mouth the word centipede to him, but I can tell from his facial expression that he’s also never heard of it.

Skye notices that we’re clueless about centipede and laughs at us. She then begins to brag about how we have thousands of dollars of technology to work with, and she beat us with a laptop she won in a bet. Now I’m really starting to hate her. Coulson then asks her where she heard of centipede. She informs us she heard of it as whispers on the web, but then it was gone, but she had managed to track centipede, whatever it was to that building, and had staked it. This interrogation is taking too long and Skye, or whatever her name really annoys me, so I decide I’m done with Coulson’s laid back questioning. “What are you after?” I demand while I glare at her from across the room, hoping to intimidate her into telling me what I want to know. Skye stands up and glares back at me before merely stating, “The truth,” then without missing a beat, she adds, “What are you after?” I hold her gaze and reply, “World peace.” Pissed that she wasn’t backing down, I decide to go on the attack. 

I move towards her as I accuse anarchist hackers like herself of stirring up trouble that they never have to deal with themselves. Then I tell her people have secrets for a reason and emphasize her name, which I’m positive is an alias. By this point, Skye and I are standing toe to toe. Due to our height difference, I’m forced to look down to look her in the eye. Being this close to her, a very unhelpful voice in the back of my mind adds, “God, she’s hot. It’s been too long since I scratched that itch.” As my imagination supplied several images of Skye wearing a lot less clothes. This is getting out of control. How is this horribly annoying little spitfire of a woman throwing me off my game? Nobody ever throws me off my game. I take a deep breath and try to center myself, which fails when Skye jabs me in the chest. I missed what she had been saying up to this point, but I did catch the part where she called me a “government tool bag.” Now Skye is really getting on my nerves, so I try to reason with her again. “Just give us your guy’s name.” She scoffs,” First, he’s not my guy, and second, let me talk to him.” She glances over at me and jesters with her hand, “not the T-1000 over here.” Finally, I understand her play. I turn to Coulson, “She’s a groupie, just like the sweaty cosplay girls that stand outside Stark tower.” She denies it, but as Skye turns away from me, I’m pretty sure she mumbles, “It was just one time” to herself. Coulson stands up and walks to the door when he reaches the door, he calls my name, and I follow him outside, closing the door behind me.

As I follow Coulson down the hall, he asks, “Is she getting under your skin?” Confused, I reply “Sir?” Coulson continues on as if he didn’t hear me. “Or are you so anxious to get off this team that you would deliberately blow an interrogation?” He doesn’t understand, this isn’t how I normally handle interrogations. My interrogations are normally much shorter and are a lot less pleasant. “Sir, just give me a minute alone with her, and we’ll have everything we need.” He stops walking and turns to face me. “She’s an asset,” he says. Skye is the most annoying person I have ever met, and she’s kinda an asshole. I open my mouth to tell Coulson this, and I get as far saying, “She is such an ass...” Then my brain processes what Coulson had said: “Wait... an asset?” I give Coulson a questioning look. He opens a cabinet by entering a code, retrieves a briefcase, and opens it on the table. He then explains, “We don’t know anything about her. Do you appreciate how often that happens? That never happens. We need what she knows.” He turns the now open briefcase towards me, revealing that it contains standard-issue truth serum and an injector. I don’t allow myself to smile, but the knowledge that in less than an hour, I’ll have all the information I need. And I’ll never have to see that annoying woman again. That is, outside of my fantasies, the voice in the back of my mind adds.

Coulson and I renter the interrogation room. Coulson holds up the vial of truth serum and tells Skye, “This is QNB-T16. It’s an extremely potent truth drug. Don’t worry the effects only last about an hour.” I smile as I helpfully add, “Then you’ll have a nice nap, and we’ll have our info.” Then to my surprise, instead of injecting Skye with the truth serum, he injects me. “Hey? What the Hell?!” Coulson has the nerve to smirk, “I’m sorry.” He doesn’t look sorry at all! “Did that hurt?” He asks. “No. But you’ve lost your mind. You should never do that to a member of your team.” I reply firmly before my mouth opens again on its own accord and adds. “And yes, it did hurt a little bit, but I always try to mask my pain in front of beautiful women ’cause I think it makes me seem more masculine. My God, this stuff works fast.” Coulson looks at Skye before he starts walking towards the door. “Don’t trust us? Ask him whatever you’d like.” He says, a smile playing on his lips. I look at Coulson and call, “Wait a minute. You can’t just- this is definitely not protocol.”, but he had shut the door before I finish speaking. 

Now I’m high on truth serum and sitting across from Skye, who looks happier than a kid who just found every toy on their list under the Christmas tree. I’m screwed. “You seem nervous, agent Ward.” She says as Skye takes off her jacket revealing a shirt with a plunging neckline that draws my attention to the tan swells of her perfectly shaped breast before I can stop myself. I quickly refocus my attention on her face, but I know she noticed me staring at her breasts. My mouth opens without my permission again, and I tell her, “I’m calling to mind my training.” She stands up as I continue and walks around the table to stand next to me. “There’s no way I’m going to reveal classified secrets to a girl that’s hell-bent on taking us down.” She asks, “Have you ever killed anyone?” I knew this question was coming, it’s so cliche. I answer, “Yes, a few high-risk targets. But they were terrible people who were trying to murder nice people. And I didn’t feel good afterward.” Skye probes further, “Does your grandmother know about these things?” Guilt and sadness wash over me. My grandmother “Gramsy” was the only one in my family that treated me like I wasn’t a piece of shit and a total waste of a human being. I can’t help myself, I croak, “Gramsy?” 

I expect Skye to laugh or make a snark comment, but all she says is, “huh.” She walks back over to the other side of the table and leans against the wall watching me for a few minutes. While she stares at me, I’m trying to take calming breaths and cement my resolve, so I don’t reveal the slightest bit of classified information. When she opens her mouth, I brace to be hit by a waterfall of questions that I absolutely can’t answer. Instead, she asks, almost shyly, “You think I’m beautiful?” “Yes,” I reply, wholeheartedly. My answer seems to calm her, and she sits back down across from me. Her earlier shyness is gone, replaced by a devious smile. “You’re not a virgin, are you?” She taunts. “Of course not.” I grate out kinda insulted she felt the need to ask. I mean, I’m not vain, but I been told that I’m the embodiment of tall, dark, and handsome. “How many women have you slept with? What’s your number?” 

I open my mouth to reply, “Wouldn’t you like to know,” but what actually happens is I quietly mumble, “I don’t know.” Skye didn’t hear, so she asks me to repeat myself. “I don’t know. Okay?!” I reply, making my annoyance evident in my voice. “It’s complicated.” “How is that complicated?” She demands. I groan, “You wouldn’t understand.” She simply replies, “try me.” I take a deep breath and stare intently down at my hands, folded on the table in front of me before I begin. “On occasion, I have been ordered to seduce women to gain information, access to a target, and/or for resources such as money, a place to stay, and transportation.” I risk a quick glance up at Skye’s face. She looks horrified. 

“That’s disgusting! I can’t believe that someone would order you to do something like that. And worst of all, you did it!” She yells. “It’s not like that Skye, I didn’t have a choice, lives were at stake. And I didn’t feel good about it! Most of the time, the women I had to seduce were innocent. They were linked to the target, by either a familial relation or they worked for the target. Still, they were clueless as to what the target was really doing. During the mission, I compartmentalized because I had to. Still, after the mission was over, I would literally be sick with guilt, even if the women turned out to be just as bad or worse than the target.” 

This conversation is making me nauseous, and I’m starting to feel extremely drowsy, so I cross my arms on the table and lay my head on top of them. Skye asks me another question, but I’m at the proverbial verge of falling asleep. Still, I’m almost positive she asked, “If we met under different circumstances, would you sleep with me?” That’s the last thing I remember, so I assume I fell asleep because the next thing I know, I’m getting woken up by May pouring water on my head. May hands me a towel, and I glare at her. She shrugs her shoulders and says, “You wouldn’t wake up, and the team needs you so...” she shrugs her shoulders again “now your up.” I continue to glare at her as I get up to go find the rest of the team.

The rest of the day went by in a blur, but it was a good blur. Fitz-Simmons perfected their ridiculously named “night-night” gun. And I deactivated a human bomb without killing him by shooting him with said night-night gun. All and all, it turned out to be an okay day despite the horrible morning I had. I was sitting in the common area absent-mindedly watching some documentary on World War 2 when Coulson returned. My eyes can’t believe who’s following him with a box full of clothes and other randomly assorted items. It was Skye. Within seconds of seeing her, my headache from this morning had returned full force. I blush as I recall our conversation, more specifically, what I think she said. Seeing me Skye waves, “Hi there, T-1000. I didn’t know robots watched tv. I know I said I hate all this” She jesters around the room “but, maybe I was wrong. Coulson showed me that he, at least, just wants to help people and keep them safe. So, long story short. I guess I’m one of you guys now.” I scoff “You’re not one of us.” Then I go back to watching the documentary as Coulson leads her to her bunk.


	2. Who Knew Being An S.O. Was So Hard?

Our next mission to retrieve the 0-8-4 goes about as well as anyone can expect when I’m tasked with babysitting three untrained people in a potentially dangerous situation. Therefore it went absolutely horrible. And then to make things worse, Coulson’s “friend” from the good old days betrays us, and her men take Skye, May, Fitz-Simmons, and me hostage in the cargo hold. Skye and Fitz-Simmons come up with an absolutely insane plan, and then May breaks free. Then, there’s chaos as a hole is literally blown into the side of the bus. After much fighting and me almost getting pulled out of the plane midair, everyone is safe, and to my surprise, it was Skye who saved both me and the day. Maybe I’ve been too hard on her. She told Coulson she wants to become a S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent. I’m standing in the kitchen area with May having a drink when May looks over at me and says, “She’s going to need an S.O.” I think about it for a second. I know we didn’t start out on the best terms, and we’re still not on the best of terms, but she did save not only my life, but the life of the whole team, so I kinda feel like I owe it to her to give her a chance. “Okay. I’ll do.” I say. Then I glance over at May and ask, “You were talking about me, right?” Her only response is to roll her eyes as she walks away. I go find Coulson to tell him I volunteer to be Skye’s S.O. When I find him and tell him, he smiles and replies, “Good, ’cause I already told her you were going to be her S.O.”

After my talk with Coulson, I go to Skye’s bunk and knock at the door. She opens the door, but before she can say a thing, I say, “Tomorrow 5:30, meet me in the cargo bay. We’re going to start your training.” I turn and start walking towards my bunk, “5:30 in the morning?!” She asks. I smile a little bit at her horror of getting up at such an early hour.“Don’t be late” I call over my shoulder before I enter my bunk and close the door. Well, this is going to be interesting.

..............................................................................................................................................................................................................................

Training Skye to fight is just as challenging as I thought it would be, maybe even harder. For one thing, Skye is the exact opposite of a morning person, so she’s always late. And when she does show up, she complains that she’s tired and hungry and doesn’t take her training seriously, which frustrates me to no end. A month or so into her training, I find the solution to these problems. If she’s on time for training, there is a cup of coffee waiting for her. If she’s not on time, I get to drink that coffee, and if she works hard and takes her training seriously, I make us breakfast when we’re done. If she doesn’t, we both have stale cereal for breakfast. And while I am very proud of myself for solving those problems, I still haven’t solved my biggest problem, pun intended. The problem that I’m sexually attracted to her, and the more time I spend training her, talking to her, and going on missions with her, the stronger that attraction becomes. 

Up to this point, I’ve been able to remain entirely professional while training Skye. Even though fantasies of her in a sports bra and shorts covered in a thin layer of sweat force me to get up and take a cold shower every night. But today day, my professionalism and self-control are really going to be put to the test. Today I promised Skye that I would start teaching her how to grapple and pin an opponent. She’s excited, I should be excited too because grappling is a lot more fun than holding the heavy bag still and correcting Skye’s stances. The only problem is my dick is very excited about the thought of straddling Skye and Sky straddling me. So much so that an ice-cold shower wasn’t enough to rid me of my hard-on. So now I’m lying on my back staring at the ceiling trying to will my erection away. It’s the worst kind of torture I’ve ever experienced. Still, I can’t jerk off no matter how badly I want because Skye is on the other side of that paper-thin wall dividing our bunks. And even though I’m quiet, I can’t risk it because as much as I pretend I don’t know what she’s doing, sometimes I can hear her please herself. Finally, after what seems like forever, I fall into a dreamless sleep and wake up to my alarm. I dress and head down to the cargo bay, let’s get this over with I tell myself.

When Skye arrives, I have her start on the usual warm-up routine, and when she finishes that I begin to teach her the basics of grappling. I start by teaching her how to properly pin your opponent once you get them on the floor. I spend at least thirty minutes laying on my back on the mat in the cargo hold while Skye straddles my hips, teaching her the various holds, and so far, I’ve been able to keep my body in check. We move on to how to get out of a hold if you are pinned to the floor. My first mistake was to straddle Skye and hold her down with my weight on my forearm horizontally across her chest and shoulders. Skye does what every untrained person would do in this situation. She thrashes around, which results in her grinding against my crotch. I take a deep breath and try to calm myself because letting her try to get out of the hold is a valuable learning tool. Still, I can feel myself getting hard, and it won’t be long until she can feel it, too, so I tell Skye, “Stop.” She ignores me and insists that “I’ve got this. I’m almost there.” 

She not almost there, but I’m almost completely hard, and that’s when a miracle happens. Coulson appears at the top of the stairs overlooking the cargo bay. “We’ve got a case,” he shouts over the techno Skye insists on playing when she trains. I quickly roll off Skye, facing away from both Skye and Coulson to hide the tent in my basketball shorts, then I call over my shoulder. “Go hit the shower, Skye. We’re done for today.” I can feel Skye’s eyes piercing the back of my head, trying to decide if this is a trap.

“What gives? You always insist on having the first shower.” She says suspiciously. I groan inwardly, why did she feel the need to question every order I give her? Why can’t she just assume I’m being uncharacteristically kind and go take a shower? Now I have to come up with a reason why I’m letting her have the first shower, so I say the first thing that comes to mind. “I used up the last of my shampoo during yesterday’s shower. I have to go get another bottle out of my bunk.” Skye seems to accept that reasoning, but she does say as she gets up and grabs her gear, “You know you could just use my shampoo, right?” I wrinkle my nose at the thought, and she laughs. “No thanks, I’ve rather not smell like a flower shop threw up on my head.” I retort. She laughs again and replies, “suit yourself.”

Once Skye’s gone, I get to my bunk as quickly as possible and close and lock the door. I’m so desperate to get off that I don’t care that I’m laying on my clean bed covered in sweat, I just push my basketball shorts and my boxer briefs down to my knees and pull my work out T-shirt up. Then I spit in my hand and start jerking myself off. It’s too dry, but the pain feels good. I feel like it should be painful because I’m a pervert. I’m getting off on Skye’s training, and it’s wrong, it’s wrong on so many levels, but it feels so good. It feels so good, and I’m so close, then there’s a knock at my door, and Skye calls, “The showers free.” The sound of Skye’s voice pushes me over the edge, and I grunt before cuming all over my hand and stomach. I peel my sweat-soaked shirt off and use it to wipe off my hand and stomach before pushing it to the bottom of my hamper. Knowing Coulson will want to hold the mission briefing soon, I take a quick shower and change into a pair of grey cargo pants and a plain black T-shirt.


	3. Ghosts From The Past

Today has been the second-worst day of my life. That’s why I’m sitting in a bar in Dublin, Ireland, wanting to get so drunk I forget my own name. But not allowing myself to because a specialist should never let themselves reach a point where they are no longer level headed and capable of making smart strategical decisions. That’s where I’m still sitting nursing the same glass of whiskey when Skye finds me an hour later. “Hey, I could get used to turndown service and little mints on my pillow.” She chirps in an attempt to snap me out of my brooding mood. “Overnights aren’t standard,” I reply without looking up from my whiskey. “We deserve a nice night, you especially. How are you feeling?” She asked. “Not great,” I reply, taking a sip of my drink. “I’m... I’m sorry for before. I’m not that guy.” I say, feeling guilty about snapping at everyone earlier, especially Skye. When I said those hurtful things to her, the look on her face made my heart feel like it was getting put through a shredder. Skye knows I didn’t mean what I said, but I know a small part of her will always wonder if that’s what I really think about her, and that breaks my heart. Skye shrugs her shoulders and tells me, “When a guy saves lives, I can overlook a little Hulk rage. No harm, no foul.” “Does everything just roll off your back?” I ask curiously. “No.” She replies, “If it helped, I would rage all the time, but it doesn’t.” I blink a couple of times and try to get my emotions under control, then I tell her “What I saw” I stop because my voice starts to break, but I take a deep breath and finish “was about my brother.” “I figured,” Skye almost whispers, then she surprises me by placing her hand on top of my hand that’s resting on the bar and offers. “I know you’re not one to talk, but like I said, I’m here. My shoulder is free.” I’m torn over what to do. Half of me wants desperately to take Skye up on her offer because without someone or something to distract me from my thoughts, I’m going to keep reliving that horrible day over and over. But I also don’t want to dump all my hurt and my emotional baggage on Skye because that’s totally unfair. She’s has enough hurt and emotional baggage of her own to deal with. I open my mouth to tell her I really appreciate the offer, but that I’m tired, and I’m going to go to bed even though I know I won’t be able to sleep. But instead, I say, “Yeah, okay. Let’s talk, but I don’t want to talk about what I saw. I want to forget what I saw, we can talk about anything you want other than that.”

Skye gives me a sad smile, “Deal,” she says as we both get up, and I toss enough money on the bar to cover my drink. We don’t discuss who’s room we’re going to, but we end up in Skye’s room, not that I really care either way. Once inside, she says, “It’s been a long day. Do you mind if I change into my PJs quickly?” I yawn and reply, “Not at all, take your time. I’m gonna turn on the tv and flip through the channels.” There’s no chair in the room, so I sit down on the edge of Skye’s bed and turn the tv on. I still haven’t found a channel worth watching when Skye emerges from the bathroom in a pair of plaid pajama pants and an oversized t-shirt that looks like one of mine that disappeared. She crawls into bed as I continue to flip channels, but then she startles me when she squeals with glee “stop. Go back one.” I do what she says and flip back to the previous channel, and I smile. I had been flipping through the channels so fast that I had failed to notice that this channel was playing “The Polar Express.” I would not personally choose to watch a children’s Christmas movie but, Skye looks at me and gives me her best puppy dog eyes as she asks, “I’ll leave it up to you because you’ve had a really shitty day, but can we please, pretty please watch “The Polar Express”? “Sure,” I reply. Then she adds, “Kick off your shoes and crawl into the other side, you’ll be more comfortable watching the movie that way.” I do as she says, kicking off my shoes and slipping under the covers on the other side of the bed. Skye watches the movie intently, but the bed is so soft, and I’m so tired, so before I know my eyelids are drifting shut and I’m asleep before I know it.

In my dream, I’m back at the well as a scared kid. I watch, and I scream, but I can’t move from his side as Christian shoves Thomas against the well, then keep shoving him hard in the chest till Thomas loses his balance and falls backward into the well. I hear Thomas hit the water at the bottom of the well, and I hold my breath waiting for him to surface. After what feels like ten years but was only seconds, Thomas’s head breaks the surface of the water before plunging right back below the water. Thomas was never a good swimmer. I look down, and I’m holding a rope. Christian looks, and me holding the rope and growls, “Not yet.” I’m finally able to move, albeit in slow motion. I throw the rope down the well to Thomas, who was doing his very best to tread water but was failing more than he was succeeding at it. Finally, he’s able to grab the rope, and that’s when Christian pushes me from behind. I’m off balance leading over the well to hold the rope as close to Thomas as possible, I stumble forward over the wall of the well. I hear Christian laughing at me, and then I hit the water, and the breath is knocked out of me. I kick my way to the surface, gasping for breath. Thomas is still holding on to the rope I had thrown him, tears sliding silently down his face. Thomas and I tread water for as long as we can. Eventually, Thomas doesn’t have enough energy left to keep himself afloat anymore. I dive down after Thomas and try with all my might to carry us back up to the surface, but our combined weight is too heavy for me, but I don’t give up. I keep trying until I feel the water fills my lungs, and my vision goes black.

I wake drenched in sweat, gasping for air, completely disorientated with my heart beating right out of my chest. I hear someone say my name, but it’s too distorted to figure out who’s voice it is. Then there’s a hand on me, I slap it away, but whoever’s hand it is, they don’t give up. That hand becomes two arms that surround me and pull me against someone’s chest and hold me tight, whispering words that I can’t understand. Slowly my heart begins to slow, and the word starts becoming clear. It’s Skye’s voice telling me to breathe. Telling me that I’m safe and that it was only a nightmare. When finally I break out of the grasp of my nightmare, I turn to face Skye. I don’t know what to say. I never wanted her to see me like this. Skye, for what it’s worth, doesn’t say anything. She just slowly raises her hand to my cheeks and gently as if I was a newborn baby she wiped tears I hadn’t even known were there from my cheeks. Then she lays on her side and strokes my hair gently. I don’t know where she learned to do that, but it was very soothing. After several minutes of her silently stroking my hair as I stare at the ceiling, I confide, “I was back at the well with my brothers. Only this time, it was different. I felt so useless. I fought as hard as I could, but I couldn’t save Thomas, and I couldn’t even save myself. And worst of all, Christian’s laughed as he left us to drown.” I croaked.

“Shhh, it’s okay. Everything is gonna be okay.” She whispered as she pulled me into her chest so that my head rested on her shoulder. And she held me there and stroked my hair and rubbed my back as I sob silently until I couldn’t anymore. Then she continued to hold me until every last ounce of emotion had been expelled from my body, leaving me feeling empty. Slowly she started to pull away, and I pleaded, “Please don’t go.” Skye gives me a sad smile and says, “I’m not going anywhere, but it’s late, and you should try to get some more sleep, but you’ll be more comfortable if you take those sweaty clothes off.”

I hadn’t even noticed how gross the feeling of my sweat-soaked clothing sticking to my skin was. I slowly climb out of bed and peel my disgusting shirt off and toss it across the room. Then I undo my belt and slide my jeans off before slowly climbing back into bed. Skye turns off the light and crawls back into bed, then she whispers, “Come here.” I slide closer to Skye on the bed. When I get close enough, she tells me to roll over, and I oblige, then she wraps her small arms around me and holds me tight to her chest. “Listen to me. Nobody can hurt you because I’ve got you. You’re safe in my arms.” She whispers in my ear before placing a kiss to my forehead. Feeling marginally better than I have since I touched the berserker staff, I close my eyes and let my exhaustion drag me down into unconsciousness.


	4. Unexpected Results

The next time I wake, sunlight is streaming in through the gap in the curtains. I feel calmer, more grounded than I have in a very long time, even though I’m extremely hard. I try to roll over and escape to the bathroom to take a cold shower, but as I go to move, Skye’s arms tighten their hold around my waist, and she moans a single word, “Grant.” I can feel pre-cum leaking from the tip of my dick. God, Skye was going to be the death of me, and she doesn’t even know what she does to me. Skye shifts in her sleep and her hand that had been resting on my stomach slides down and is now resting on my erection. Instinctually I buck into her hand before I can stop myself. My gaze instantly shifts from her hand to her face praying she was still asleep, but no such luck. Skye stares at me with a deer in the headlights expression, her hand still on my erection. I swallow hard, then I try to explain, “Skye, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say.” Her eyes never leave mine as she bites her lip and says, “Then don’t say anything,” as she begins to slowly stroke me through my boxers, her eyes still never leaving my face. Feeling a little braver, her hand abandons my dick and perches on the waistband of my boxers instead. I nod my head, and she slowly pushes my boxers down, and I kick them off. Skye takes a moment to admire the view before taking me in her hand. Then using the pre-cum at the head as a lubricant, she slowly starts to jerk me off. She experiments with several tempos but settles on a brutal pace complete with a twist at the head that has me close in record time.

“Skye, you have to stop. You have to stop, or I’m not gonna last.” I croak as my orgasm gets closer with every beat of my heart. “Shh, let me take care of you. And if you want, I wouldn’t say no if you returned the favor later.” She purred in my ear before gently nipping at my earlobe. “Come for me Grant,” then she pulled me into a searing kiss as fireworks exploded behind my eyes, and my organism coursed through me. “God,” I pant “I don’t think I’ve ever come so hard in my life,” Skye smirks. “That was nothing. You haven’t scratched the surface of what I could do. What do you think about dinner tonight.” She gives a sexy smile, “then we’ll see what happens. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, thanks for reading! I actually wrote the first four chapters of this story months ago and complete forgot about it, but I was looking through the files on my laptop and came across this. Please let me know what you think, and if you think I should continue it.


End file.
